


Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

by ani_bester, ellyr_in_ink



Category: Avengers, Marvel 616, New Avengers - Fandom
Genre: Drunk Sex, F/M, Fluff, Las Vegas, M/M, Multi, Orgy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ani_bester/pseuds/ani_bester, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellyr_in_ink/pseuds/ellyr_in_ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony takes Steve to Vegas... and ends up in bed with Steve, Peter, and MJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Inspired by the Katy Perry song, "Waking Up in Vegas." Right click [HERE](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xi-8X2qcD9s) to listen. And the car? [Pretty car... *dirty, dirty thoughts about such a sexy thing*](http://www.seriouswheels.com/pics-2008/klm/2008-Mansory-Mercedes-Benz-McLaren-SLR-Renovatio-Front-Angle-2-1024x768.jpg)
> 
>  **Fanart:** [The Couch Scene](http://stormseye.livejournal.com/4765.html#cutid1) by the lovely . Scroll down to the bottom of the page. Go comment and give love. Every fanfic writer loves to get art for their work. :)

_"Shut up and put your money where your mouth is. That's what you get for waking up in Vegas."_  
-Katy Perry, "Waking Up In Vegas"

Steve Rogers took a few steps onto the tarmac away from the jet.

He had to admit, when Tony Stark had snuck up behind him in the kitchen at six o'clock in the morning and proposed they go on a short vacation **right then** , he had agreed instantly. He hadn't asked any questions; he had just packed a bag. 

Normally, when faced with one of Tony's manic impulses, Steve was pretty good about balancing the other man out. Under other circumstances, he would have inquired about an itinerary, or at least a destination. But when Tony had started sucking on his ear... Well, he kind of just forgot.

Now, as he looked out at the Las Vegas skyline, he wished that he hadn't been so distracted. 

He glanced down at the duffle bag in his hand. He hadn't packed anything formal. A slow-building panic began to infect his thoughts. _Can you even get into a casino without a suit and tie?_ He tried to think back to the James Bond movie that had been on TV a few weeks ago, but he wasn't sure if it was a reliable reference. In fact, it was because of that movie that they had ended up here in the first place. Steve had mentioned to Peter that he had never been to a casino. Tony must have overheard.

He tried to think of what there possibly was to do in a town like this. Tony was used to fast cars, swanky hotels, and restaurants that required reservations three years in advance. Steve didn't blend in very well with that crowd. _Maybe_ , he thought, _if I'm really persuasive, I can get Tony back on the jet and we can just spend some quality time at home_.

Steve turned around, fully intending to make the suggestion, but his ability to string words into a coherent argument abandoned him when he saw Tony standing at the top of the jet's stairs. Tony was dressed in blue jeans and a red t-shirt, which rode up slightly as his arms went over his head to stretch in the crisp morning air. Steve caught a glimpse of the taut stomach just above the waistband of Tony's jeans. The panic began to recede, leaving something a little more carnal in its wake. Tony's casual dress had to be a sign that at least the car ride wouldn't turn into a black-tie affair. 

Tony caught him staring and flashed him a radiant grin. "Welcome to Vegas," he said with a wink. Steve couldn't help but smile back. God, he loved this man.

Hefting the duffle bag onto his shoulder, he turned to look out at the city again. He sensed Tony's warmth move into the space beside him, and Steve pulled him in, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. In response, Tony's arm slid around his waist. 

"Well, you look excited," Tony remarked. 

"Just thinking, I guess." 

"What about?" Steve felt the hand that lay against his side slip down until a few fingers made teasing contact with the skin beneath his shirt. He looked down to find Tony's face devoid of any mischief. To look at him, you would think he was passively taking in the sight of the airport, not trying to arouse Steve's prurient interests. Steve grabbed the wandering hand and removed it. 

"Nothing important. Where are we headed?"

Tony grinned. Twirling a set of keys around his finger, he gestured towards the formidable gold convertible parked a few yards away. "Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren Roadster," he practically purred. "She'll take us anywhere we want to go."

Steve looked at the car and had to admit he couldn't find it in him to object to this particular area of extravagance. He walked over to it and slid his hand across the familiar curve of the hood. The custom paint job and the red leather interior were a dead giveaway. "This is from your garage!"

As Tony came closer, Steve heard the door unlock. "I noticed you eyeing her, so I had them ship her ahead." Tony slid his sunglasses on. "She hasn't gotten to go out in a while." 

Steve raised his eyebrows as Tony opened the door for him. "Shouldn't I be opening doors for you?"

"Not when it's my car," Tony retorted. He walked around to the driver side and got in.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

As they pulled up in front of a very large hotel, the panic started to seep back into Steve's thinking. Tony slid out from behind the wheel, leaving the keys in the ignition for the valet that seemed to appear out of thin air.

"The Wynn hotel," he offered as he moved around to the back of the vehicle. Two more attendants were already removing the luggage from the back seat. Steve frowned and shut the passenger's side door.

"It's awfully... big," he said, craning his neck to stare up at the steel and concrete towering over them.

"Of course it is," said Tony absently, pulling out his wallet. "It's one of the best hotels in Vegas." He began to count out a couple of twenties to hand to the two attendants.

"So we're staying here?" The question was out before Steve had a chance to censure himself.

Tony froze in mid-count and looked at Steve over top of his sunglasses. Steve could almost see Tony's mind working at a dizzying pace, trying to interpret the words that had just been spoken. "What do you mean?"

Steve shrugged, jamming his hands into his pockets. "I didn't mean... It's just so... big."

Tony's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes, we've been over its size already. But what did you mean?"

Steve took a couple of steps towards the other man. "It's not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, it's just—"

Tony shoved the cash back into his wallet. The two attendants had wisely disappeared, not wanting to be involved in the curbside dispute. The valet was half in, half out of the car, his eyes bouncing from Tony to Steve anxiously. 

Steve looked down at his shoes, waiting for the biting sarcasm that had been punctuating Tony's short temper as of late.

"It's just what, Steve?" Steve looked up in mild surprise. Tony's shoulders were slumped in disappointment, his words soft. Steve suddenly felt very, very guilty.

"I just feel uncomfortable when we go to big places like this," Steve admitted, fixing Tony with a hangdog expression. "Expensive places."

Tony chewed on his lip, his eyes slipping out of focus as his thoughts turned inward. Steve hated it when Tony looked like that. He wished the other man would just think out loud so at least he would have some idea of what was going on inside that complicated head.

"You know what, Tony. It's fine. I'm fine." Steve picked up the two bags. "Let's just go check in."

Tony turned away from Steve and surveyed the lot in front of him as if trying to figure out where he was. Steve gave himself a couple of good mental kicks. _Stupid. You should have kept your mouth shut. Stupid stupid stupid._

He started to say something else, but Tony had already pulled out his cell phone. 

"No," Steve overheard. "I'm serious, cancel the room." Tony tilted his head to hold the phone with his shoulder as he started putting the bags back into the back seat. "Actually, Pepper, give the tickets to Peter and his wife. Transfer the room to their name. Sure, surprise them. And if they can't, they can't."

Steve felt less than an inch tall. He'd slipped up and let a moment's discomfort ruin Tony's entire plan. 

"Tony," he began, but when Tony hung up the phone, he was smiling. 

Steve balked a bit at the sheer unexpectedness of the expression. In two quick steps, Tony had returned to the driver side of the car and motioned for Steve to follow with a jerk of his head. 

"Come on, Steve."

"Tony." Steve stood where he was. "Tony, what are you doing?"

The grin never faltered. "I'm finding somewhere smaller."

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

They'd driven around for a little under an hour looking at different hotels, but nothing seemed to fit the bill. They rejected one place after another, forcing Steve to make a joke about finding a hotel that was "just right." Tony had chuckled and called him Goldilocks.

They'd continued on like that for a while, the playful banter increasing as the warm desert air lifted their spirits. The problem with playful banter, though, was that it led to playful touching. Playful touching in turn lead to the decision that the next hotel they passed would be perfect so long as it had rooms.

Tony parked the car in front of the office of the Holliday Inn. He moved to open his door, paused, then grinned back at Steve. Seconds later, Tony was over the center panel and on top of him.

"Tony, what are you doing?!"

Tony straddled Steve and captured his mouth in a kiss that threatened to suck his soul from his body. Steve groaned into Tony's mouth, his hands falling to rest instinctively on Tony's hips. He felt Tony's lips curl into that infuriating smile. _This is exactly what got me in trouble this morning._ It took every last ounce of control that Steve had to pull away. "Not here. Room."

"That means I have to get out of the car," Tony breathed, leaning forward to nip at Steve's ear. Steve opened the door and shoved Tony out. The man stumbled forward a few paces like a newborn colt but managed to keep himself upright. He turned to smile impishly at Steve.

"I'll start checking in," he said, tossing the keys over to the blond. "You park the car."

A few moments later, Steve entered the lobby through the automatic sliding doors. Tony was sitting patiently on a loud, floral couch, one arm stretched languidly across the back. The other hand was busy pushing buttons on his cell phone. Up at the wooden front counter, the desk clerk was working with an elderly couple.

Knowing it was probably not a good idea, Steve sat down next to Tony anyway. Immediately, Tony's hand was off the back of the couch and on Steve's knee, fingers brushing infuriatingly against the inside of his thigh. Steve squirmed a bit and plucked up the offending hand, twining their fingers together in an attempt to keep Tony's actions a little more PG.

Tony continued to stare straight at his phone as if nothing were going on, even as his body moved inexorably closer to Steve's. Steve tried not to focus on the press of Tony's shoulder, hip, thigh... _Not in public not in public not in public_ , Steve chanted to himself.

"There you are, Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy. You'll be in room 207. Enjoy your stay." Room key in hand, the couple turned to head towards the elevator. Steve leapt off the couch. The older woman smiled at him cheerfully, and the man waved as they passed. Steve waved back weakly.

Tony coughed, although it sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Letting Steve stand there uncomfortably for a few seconds more, he finally stood and sauntered over to the front desk. Steve found himself captive to every move the man made. "I'd like to book a room for two nights," he said, pulling out his wallet ever-so-slowly from his back pocket. 

The man across the desk typed a few things into the computer. "I'm afraid we only have a non-smoking room with a king-sized bed available." He looked up, glancing from Steve to Tony. 

"Oh, really?" said Tony, feigning surprise. He turned around to look at Steve, mischief sparkling in his blue eyes. "What do you think, Steve? Is that okay?"

Steve grunted something about not minding, feeling his ears turn hot. He watched Tony turn back to the clerk and nod. "That will have to do. The flight over was absolutely exhausting and I don't think I can drive around anymore." The pink in Steve's ears began to spread down to his cheeks as he remembered just what they had been doing on the jet that morning. 

Tony leaned over the desk a little. "I just hope the big lug doesn't snore," he whispered conspiratorially. Steve resisted the urge to throw one of the pillows on the couch. 

Instead, he spun around. "I'm getting our bags."

"Okay." Tony was busy handing the man his credit card and driver's license. 

By the time Steve had come back with the bags, Tony was holding two electronic key cards. "Room 602," he chirped, leading the way towards the elevator. Steve followed.

The silver doors had just slipped closed when Tony was up against him, mouth picking up right where it had left off in the car. Steve only hesitated for a fraction of a second. He dropped the bags, and grabbed Tony by the wrists, flipping their positions easily. He pressed Tony up against the sign advertising a free continental breakfast. Tony acquiesced so sweetly, Steve wanted to rip those jeans off and take him right there up against the elevator wall.

The elevator door opened and the two stumbled out into the hall. As the metal doors began to slide closed, Tony broke the kiss. "Bags!" he yelped. Steve turned and jammed his arm in between the doors and they bounced back open. He grabbed the bags and followed Tony to the room.

He watched with great amusement as Tony's normally deft fingers fumbled to get the card turned over and in the right direction. For all of Tony's advances, Steve knew he had gained the upper hand back in the elevator. He leaned up against Tony, hands still clutching their bags, and nuzzled the sensitive spot right behind Tony's ear.

"Shit," Tony whimpered. He finally managed to slide the card through the reader the right way and was rewarded with the click of the lock sliding open. Tony barreled through the door, turning around to meet Steve with the same enthusiasm he had on the elevator. 

Steve kicked the door shut and dropped the bags, one hand reaching behind Tony's head to pull him back into the kiss. He felt Tony's hands tug helplessly at his shirt, too desperate to be coordinated. Steve grinned and pulled back just slightly.

"You want this off?" Tony opened his mouth to respond but at that moment, Steve pressed himself against Tony, grinding their hips together. The only answer Steve got to his question was a long, loud moan. _I'll take that as a very emphatic yes._

From that point on, it was a touch-and-go battle with each participant jockeying for a position of relative control. Tony's hands were all over him and in all the right places, as if Tony had memorized every sensitive spot on his body. Steve's mind reeled. He had to get Tony off of him long enough to think...

All other ideas failing him, Steve went for a Hail Mary pass. Literally. He scooped Tony up into his arms and tossed the lighter man across the room and onto the large bed. He watched as Tony twisted slightly in the air and managed a somewhat graceful landing.

"What the hell, Steve!" he yelled from the bed, "What are you—"

Steve tossed his shirt after the other man, watching as Tony automatically caught it. Tony's eyes flickered from the shirt back to Steve's broad chest. _That shut him up_ , Steve thought with a silent laugh.

Steve moved closer, never taking his eyes off of Tony. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans slowly. He could feel the heat as Tony's eyes slipped down past his stomach, feverishly watching Steve's hands work. 

Steve pulled down his pants, catching his underwear in the motion. He looked up to find Tony with his hands out, ready to catch the jeans. Laughing, Steve tossed them over. 

Steve expected Tony to throw the clothing onto the burgundy carpet. Instead, after flashing Steve a wicked look, Tony began to rub the clothing against himself, his hands caressing his own body through the material. Steve stood rooted to the spot. Tony closed his eyes and leaned his head back, exposing his long neck. He began to moan Steve's name. 

Steve's hands itched to touch, and before he knew it, he was on top of Tony, sucking hungrily on that gorgeous neck. 

"Took you long enough," he heard Tony sigh from beneath him.

"Too much talking," Steve murmured back, and he undid the button on Tony's jeans.


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to say, the original publishing date for this was Dec 2008  
> Which is to say BEFORE The Hangover. 
> 
> thank you :D

**Title:** Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is (2/3)  
 **Authors:** , **Series; Pairings:** New Avengers; Steve/Tony  
 **Timeline:** 61-WHAT?   
**Summary:** "We were drinking water, right?"  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** 4,208  
 **Warnings:** Some language. Drunken logic.  
 **Author's Note:** Inspired by the Katy Perry song, "Waking Up in Vegas." Right click [HERE](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xi-8X2qcD9s) to listen.  
 **Disclaimer:** Marvel apparently owns everything. We just ~~get the canon drunk~~ write about it.  
 **C &C:** Always Appreciated

  
[To Part 1](http://ellyr-in-ink.livejournal.com/9919.html)

** Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is - Part 2 **

_"You gotta help me out. It's all a blur last night..."_  
-Katy Perry, "Waking Up In Vegas"

The two men lay underneath the down comforter, dozing. Steve was curled around Tony, his face pressed against the back of Tony's neck. He was vaguely aware of the smell of the other man's hair and the soft humming of the air conditioning unit in their room. _This has to be what heaven is like_ , he thought drowsily, wrapping his arms a little tighter around his lover.

In response, Tony stretched languidly, pushing back against him. There were a few more moments of comfortable silence between them before Tony spoke. "Shower," he managed to get out around a yawn. "Then gambling."

Steve didn't let go. "I like it here," he protested, nuzzling the back of Tony's neck.

Tony twisted around to face him, a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "While I did allow for about 65% of our time to be spent in the hotel room doing one thing or another..." He kissed Steve gently. "We can always do that at home."

Steve considered pointing out that the hotel room lacked a crying infant, Peter's amazingly bad timing, and any Avengers' business that might call them away. Instead, he opted to simply kiss Tony back, fearing that naming any of those things might cause one or more to show up. 

Tony sighed contentedly and his eyes slipped closed again. Steve held still, watching Tony breathe. He contemplated playing the "see-if-you-can-get-Tony-to-fall-back-asleep" game, but a glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table revealed that it was almost four in the evening. 

"Shower?" Steve reminded Tony tenderly.

Tony's eyes fluttered open. "Right." He sat up slowly. "Then gambling." 

Steve chuckled. "So, am I wrong to assume that this entire trip was designed to offend my old-fashioned morality?"

"Well, if the papers are going to insist on calling me a bad influence, I should go all out. Never do anything half way." He threw Steve a lopsided grin. "I figured gambling would be more fun than strippers, although we can do both if you want."

Steve laughed out loud. "Go get in the shower, Tony, before I do."

Tony slid out of bed and walked to the bathroom just a tad slower than strictly necessary. "Maybe there's room enough for two?" he intoned as he disappeared around the corner. Immediately though, Steve heard him groan. "Damnit..." Steve could hear the pout in Tony's voice. "There's hardly room in here for one! I blame you and your preference for small, Steve!"

"I'm sure we'll make it work later," Steve called back. He stood and started making the bed.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Steve paused just outside the casino.

"What's wrong?" Tony asked from behind him, having just paid the valet. 

"You're still indulging me, aren't you."

Tony grabbed Steve's elbow and hurried him through the door of the small casino. "Of course I am. If a fancy hotel caused you to cringe, I think Caesar's Palace might give you an aneurism." Steve glowered at him, but Tony just beamed. "So we start with something less upscale."

Steve's senses were immediately assaulted from all sides. The casino was kept somewhat dark, making it impossible to tell whether it was night or day outside. Lights flashed everywhere in different patterns and shapes. Cigarette smoke made the air so thick that he could taste it. And the noise...

People jabbering happily mingled with the electronic dings of the slot machines. Every now and then, coins could be heard clinking against the metal payout trays. Women in tight but professional uniforms slid through the crowd with trays of drinks, their dulcet tones an interesting counterpoint to the bawdy laughter coming from the blackjack tables.

He looked up at one of the closer banks of slot machines. "Why is there a car parked up there?!" 

Tony made a dismissive gesture. "If you hit the jackpot, you win the car. But slot machines are for old women." He pulled Steve closer to the middle of the casino and seemed to be looking for something. He must not have found it, though, because he turned back to Steve. "Figures a place like this wouldn't have a high roller room." 

Steve fixed him with a reproving look. "What?" Tony countered. "They tend to be quieter." When Steve's expression didn't change, he shrugged. "Fine. We'll play by your rules, Captain America."

Tony pulled out his wallet and handed Steve a wad of bills. "That's your gambling money."

Steve began to count the hundreds, his eyes widening as the total got bigger and bigger. "Tony, this is four thousand dollars!"

Tony crossed his arms over his chest. "It's half the money in my wallet, minus about five hundred for other expenses." Steve tried to give the money back, but the man stepped backwards, arms still stubbornly crossed. 

"Uh-uh. Nope. Not taking it back."

"Tony, this is a ridiculous amount of money to throw into gambling."

"Hey," he shot back. "I promise not to pull out more, okay? But I'm not taking that back." 

Steve looked from the money to Tony, wondering how far he could push this argument. "I wouldn't feel comfortable losing this amount of money. This amount of **YOUR** money."

Tony shrugged, clearly not taking the bait. "Then don't lose."

Steve glared at Tony, and Tony patted him on the shoulder. "Come on, you aren't implying you think a card game can beat Captain America, are you? And Iron Man?"

"We can't punch the gambling table, Tony," he said, reluctantly putting the money into a pocket. A deep, deep pocket. He followed Tony over to a place where a balding man sat behind a counter.

Tony pulled out about half his money and pushed it through the slot in the window. The man eyed it appreciatively and produced a tray of brightly colored gambling chips. Both Tony and the balding man turned to look at Steve. "And you, sir?"

Steve pulled the cash back out and laid about four hundred on the counter. Beside him, Tony sighed dramatically and grabbed the money from his hand.

"For once, be reckless, Steve." He laid nearly the whole amount on the table. 

"Hey, wait!" Steve protested, but the cashier had already snatched the bills up and exchanged them for chips. He ignored Tony's amused expression as he looked forlornly at the plastic pieces that were supposed to represent the bills he had just lost. "I don't know that I find this fun," he muttered. With a mournful sigh, he picked up the tray.

"Don't mind him," he heard Tony call over his shoulder to the clerk. "He lived through the Great Depression." Steve rolled his eyes as Tony dragged him off into the den of gamblers.

"Let's start with something you know how to play." Tony said, leaning in close to make sure he could be heard. "What sounds better: poker or black jack?"

Steve considered the two games that he had occasionally played with his old teammates back at the Avengers' mansion. To Steve, poker was also known as the game in which Clint ended up with most of his money. 

"Black jack might be better," he answered, then noticed that Tony had already been leading him in the direction of a black jack table. The minimum bet was $25. Steve felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck.

They sat down next to each other on the stools and waited for the current round to end.

Steve placed each bet cautiously, while Tony often laid down hundreds of dollars for reasons Steve couldn't even begin to fathom. In fact, he was beginning to doubt there was much reason behind any of Tony's actions.

After about half an hour, Tony flashed a smile and a couple of new hundreds to the dealer in order to get some more chips, his own supply having been depleted. Steve just shook his head. 

"What?" Tony asked with a shrug.

"No ATM, remember?"

"I remember." Tony began flipping one of the black chips around his fingers. "But I would like to point out that I've tripled my money and you're only up what, one fifty from when you started?"

"You tripled your money and then lost it all," Steve countered. " **Twice**.” 

Tony shrugged and smiled. "I'm having more fun." The smile was so genuine that Steve sighed and backed off. _If losing all his money makes him happy, who am I to stop him?_

It would seem that some of what Steve said had made it through Tony's thick skull, however, because Tony lowered his bets to slightly less horrifying numbers. Steve returned the favor by slowly increasing his own. When he placed his first hundred dollar bet, he was rewarded with a quick peck on the cheek from Tony. "I'm so proud," Tony said, wiping away a false tear.

"Save the acting for the boardroom," Steve teased, rolling his eyes.

Around forty minutes had past, and Steve was really starting to get into the game. It was fun now that he had a handle on the strategy, and playing with the chips allowed him to distance his psyche from the money he was actually spending. 

He was so enveloped in the cards that he didn't notice the female form that had inserted herself between him and Tony. "Hey, boys," she said cheerfully. Steve glanced up and noticed she was wearing one of the waitress uniforms. Nodding curtly, he turned back to his hand.

The woman ignored Steve's icy reception and rested an elbow on Tony's shoulder. "You all seem to be doing pretty well for yourselves here." 

"Indeed we are," Tony said, smiling up at her. 

She grinned back. "Why don't I get you a couple of drinks? What'll it be?"

"Water," Steve responded, watching the woman warily out of the corner of his eye.

"Ooooh," she cooed. "Big risk taker." She turned to Tony and ran her fingers playfully through his hair. "And what about you, handsome? You look like a Laphroaig man. Three fingers, on the rocks?"

Steve spun slightly to look at Tony, who in turn was looking hopelessly conflicted. Tony glanced from Steve to the woman and back again. Steve cursed mentally. _He's trying to figure out if he can get away with it._ "He'll have water, too." Steve stared at Tony pointedly, daring him to say otherwise.

Tony shrugged and plastered a phony smile on his face. "You heard the man." The waitress winked at Tony. "Maybe later." She strolled off in the direction of the bar, and Steve couldn't help but notice how Tony stared after her.

Once she disappeared from sight, Tony's eyes immediately slid back to the cards. Steve wasn't going to give him that easy of an out. "Tony," he whispered. "You know better."

"I know," Tony murmured, his voice raw. The sound was barely audible above the din around them. "Please don't lecture me right now."

Steve felt his heart break a little.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Almost twenty rounds of black jack and three glasses of water later, Steve was feeling positively exuberant. He was currently listening to the older man next to him recount the time he had won 'fifty thousand dollars at that slot machine right over there.' For whatever reason, Steve found the man's conversation to be one of the most interesting things he'd ever heard.

He glanced over at Tony. After finishing the first glass of water, Tony had relaxed significantly, the tension seeping out of his shoulders. Now, Tony was back to how he had been when they first walked into the casino, rambling on happily to the young couple next to him about mutual funds and smart bombs. 

Steve snickered to himself and shook his head. The way Tony prattled on, you would think he knew the people. He reached over and settled a hand on Tony's thigh. Tony's eyes flickered briefly to Steve's hand, but the man kept talking.

Steve was overcome with the desire to stop Tony's mouth by covering it with his own. He felt a slow heat settle in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he should excuse himself...

He stood stiffly, shoving the chips over to Tony. "I'll be back," he announced. "I'm going to walk around for a bit."

Tony pondered him for a long moment, his face oddly flushed. "Okay," he finally decided. "I'll stay here."

Steve nodded and turned to leave. He stumbled trying to clear the stools around the table. Confounded, he stopped in the middle of the aisle and turned to see if there was something he tripped over. Nothing. He frowned. _Where the hell has my coordination gone?_ He shook his head and made his way to the outer track that looped around the casino floor.

He seemed to be having more trouble maneuvering through the crowd of people than normal, so he stayed to the outside of the walking path. He felt a little dizzy.

Steve stopped and leaned against the wall to take a personal inventory of what was going on. His coordination was off-kilter, that was for sure. His head was buzzing, though not in a way that he would call unpleasant. He actually felt pretty good. Just a little dizzy and...

He shook his head again, trying to clear it. Maybe he was hungry. They hadn't really eaten today, being too caught up in each other back in the hotel room to think about grabbing lunch. His thoughts shifted back to Tony and his heart swelled with an easy desire. 

He was overcome with the yearning to march back up to the black jack table and declare his love for Tony to God and anyone else who might be listening. Okay, maybe they should go find somewhere to eat. He stood there for a couple more minutes before pushing off against the wall and back into the crowd.

When he got back to the table, Tony had somehow managed to double his money, needing a second tray to hold all the black chips he'd just won. He saw Steve and stood, setting his glass of water down on the dealer's table. Before Steve could mention that he seemed to be feeling peculiar, Tony wrapped his arms around Steve's neck and kissed him square on the mouth. 

After a few beats, Tony pulled back just enough to talk. "Let's cash out and go get something to eat."

Steve just wrapped his arms around Tony's waist. "I love you," he said.

Tony practically giggled. "What for?"

"For being able to read my mind," Steve said, leaning back in for a longer kiss. Steve's head was buzzing pleasantly now, the musk of Tony's cologne only adding to the sensation.

"Steve," Tony mumbled against his lips. "People are starting to stare."

"So?" Steve countered, feeling stupidly brave. "Let them. They're just jealous because I have you."

Tony ducked out of the way of another kiss and picked up the three trays of chips. "Let's go cash out and eat." Tony wobbled a bit as he started towards the cashier's office, and Steve quickly took two of the trays from him.

The little balding man looked most unhappy to be giving them back almost twice what they had put in. "Oh, don't look so dour," Tony said teasingly. "We'll be back after dinner. You can steal our money from us then."

Steve turned to Tony, remembering what he had wanted to ask before Tony had kissed him. "Do you feel... I don't know, weird?"

Tony's face was blank. "Weird how?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't know. Weird as in weird?" His face turned suddenly serious. "We were drinking **water** , right?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Don't be silly, Steve. We are absolutely, one hundred percent the most non-weird people in Las Vegas." Tony tilted a little sideways, and Steve caught him before he fell.

Steve cracked a grin. "That's not true at all. We're Avengers! You dress up as a robot."

"I am not a robot," Tony said, pouting slightly. "And besides, you have wings on your head. That you put there. On purpose."

Steve kissed Tony again in an attempt to shut him up, but Tony broke the kiss, his face lighting up. "I know! Let's go walk around and find stuff to do."

Steve thought about the suggestion. It sounded like a good idea. "Okay," he agreed. He grabbed Tony's hand. Tony responded by leaning his head against Steve's shoulder as they walked. Both of them were weaving slightly as they made their way out of the casino.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

When Steve woke up, his head was throbbing mercilessly. Even though the shades were drawn in the room, he didn't want to open his eyes. He could feel Tony's familiar weight across his chest. He threw an arm over his face and tried to fall back asleep.

'We need witnesses.' Tony's voice echoed through his mind, repeating that phrase. Try as he might, however, Steve could not assign context to the sentence. He ran through the events of last night, grasping only fleeting images and phrases.

Worried now, he rolled out of bed. Beside him, Tony mumbled something incoherent, grabbed the abandoned comforter, and rolled over. 

Steve quickly checked himself for bruises or abrasions, something that might indicate a fight had taken place. He found nothing, though he became aware of a dull ache throughout his body and a sharp pain behind his eyes. 

Fighting to keep his movements steady, he pulled the covers from Tony. The man shifted and muttered more, but did not wake up. Quickly, Steve checked him for any sign of physical trauma. 

Again, there was nothing.

Steve stood for a moment, unsure of what to do. To buy himself some time to think, and to try and dull the ache spreading through his body, he decided to take a shower.

He padded into the bathroom, stepping over discarded clothes as he went. He couldn't even remember coming home last night...

He turned on the water full blast and stepped in. The hot stream rained down on him, slowly bringing his consciousness up to full speed. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair and went to reach for the soap. He froze.

Why was he wearing a ring?

He pulled his left hand close to his face, blinking incredulously. A big gold beaver sat laughing back at him, the letters MIT emblazoned on the side. Tony’s ring...

Steve leaned back against the wall, dazed and more than a little confused. Why couldn't he remember what happened last night? 

He shut off the water abruptly and wrapped a towel around his waist, dripping as he pushed his way back into the main room.

Now that he was actually paying attention, he couldn't help but notice that the place was a disaster area. One of the chairs had tipped over and was resting against the AC unit. Their clothes from last night were scattered everywhere and appeared to be covered in... glitter? Steve picked his way carefully through the veritable mine field and over to the bed. Pillows were on the floor, on the table... 

Tony had wrapped himself back up in the down comforter. Steve sat down slowly on the edge of the bed. There were a dozen red roses on top of the dresser, beginning to wilt without any water to sustain them. Two ticket stubs to something called Le Rêve at the Wynn hotel were almost obscured by the five empty bottles of what looked to be very expensive champagne and four mostly empty flutes. A bunch of brochures for local attractions that Steve had seen displayed in the lobby, a couple of water glasses, a bucket full of melted ice, a king-sized bag of M&Ms...

There was a hiccup in Steve's brain and his eyes moved backwards over the items. M&Ms, ice, water, brochures, champagne, ticket stubs... The ticket stubs were for a show at the Wynn hotel. Wasn't that where they were supposed to be staying before Tony had changed the reservations? His thoughts shifted back over to the champagne. Four glasses? Why would he and Tony need four glasses...

Steve suddenly felt nauseous. The more he looked around, the more he began to wonder if he and Tony had been the only people in the room last night. 

And why was he wearing Tony's ring?

He dropped his head into his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. Why couldn't he remember? Had something bad happened? His eyes opened and caught sight of an article of clothing at his feet. His chest tightened. An emerald green bra...

Steve blanched. Now he knew for sure they hadn't been alone. He spun around and jostled Tony. "Tony, you have got to wake up. **Now!** "

Tony pushed the covers out of the way and glared at him through half-lidded eyes. "What, Steve?" His tone was sharp and devoid of all patience. 

Steve sat there dumbly, not knowing what to say now that Tony was awake. Tony sighed and sat up. "What, Steve?"

"Do you... remember last night?"

Tony threw him his "well-that's-a-dumb-question" look and ran his fingers through his hair. "What do you mean? We..." Tony trailed off, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation. "Well, we were at the casino, and..." He looked up at Steve, a little worried now. "Why?"

Steve glanced at the wreckage around him and Tony's gaze followed. His eyes stopped on the champagne, and all the color drained out of his face. "Did we... Did I—" Tony's hand went immediately to his temple. "I can't remember. I can't remember anything! I must have... Shit. Shit shit shit shit!"

Steve reached over to place a hand on the panicking man's arm. "Tony, that can't be what happened. I can't remember last night either, but alcohol doesn't affect me like—"

Tony looked down at Steve's hand and paled even further. "Why are you wearing my ring?" His eyes kept darting between Steve's face and his hand. "On that hand? On **THAT** finger?" Steve pulled his hand back. 

"I don't know. Tony, maybe we should call someone..." 

"No."

Steve blinked at the bite in Tony's voice. "What? Why?"

"I'm not going to listen to them tell me that I'm a drunk because... Because I did not get drunk last night. I can't have. Unless you think we're in life-or-death trouble here, we are not calling anyone."

Steve pulled Tony against him, running a soothing hand across his back. "I don't know what to think," he admitted. 

Tony stayed quiet as he took in the room again. "I think we need to figure out who we had a party with for starters."

"Peter," Steve supplied hesitantly. "Probably Mary Jane, too."

Tony pulled out of Steve's embrace and gave him a quizzical look. Steve just shrugged and pointed over to a Canon digital camera on the floor. The name Peter Parker was engraved on the bottom.

Tony's eyes narrowed. "If he brought Mesmero down on us, can we kick him off the team?"

"It would be a bit unfair," Steve said, looking back down at his hand. He started trying to get the ring off, but his finger was bigger than Tony's.

At that instant, the phone next to Steve rang, causing them both to jump. Steve picked it up before it could ring again. "Hello?"

"Dude, you need to turn on the TV." The voice was familiar.

"Peter?"

"Just turn it on and call me back after you watch the news."

Steve set the handset back on its cradle and picked up the remote. 

"What did Peter want?" Tony asked, the panic still evident in his voice.

Steve flipped through the channels until he got to CNN.

"—was arrested after he was found to have tainted the entire city's water supply with an as yet unidentified chemical. The chemical Jenner was using is thought to have mostly psychotropic properties, including euphoria, impaired judgment and inhibition, decreased motor skills, and memory loss. It is not known at this time how many people have been affected by exposure."

The scene panned over to where an impossible number of barrels filled an old warehouse. "Jenner, who had found a way to mass produce the chemical, claimed that Las Vegas was to be his test run before unleashing the compound on several key cities across the United States." The camera flashed back over to the reporter. "Local authorities have already partnered with government agencies to begin cleaning up the water supply. FEMA will be working with both Target and Wal-Mart distribution centers to help bring in bottled water—"

Steve flipped off the TV. "I can't even begin to think of what to say to that." He turned to look at Tony, who was still staring at Steve's hand. 

"Did we get... married?"

Steve blushed furiously. "Tony..."

Tony looked down at his own hands. "We couldn't have really. That's not legal here, but..." He turned to look back at Steve, his expression earnest. "But that's what that... I mean, that's what that means, right?"

Steve reached over and picked up his cell phone. "I think we need to call Peter and MJ."

Tony nodded dazedly and rolled out of bed, meandering off towards the shower.


	3. Part III

_"Why are these lights so bright? Did we get hitched last night?... Why am I wearing your class ring?"_  
-Katy Perry, "Waking Up In Vegas"

 

While Tony was in the shower, Steve was trying to keep himself busy by picking up the physical mess that their inebriated evening had left behind. He had made the bed, thrown away the empty bottles and useless brochures, and tossed the discarded clothes into an empty drawer. He'd left the roses on the dresser, half hoping that the sight of them would dredge up some memory of the night before.

Steve moved over to the sink in the little alcove and began to dump the old water and melted ice down the drain. As he dried one of the glasses off with a hand towel, he glanced into the bathroom. 

The shower had been running for almost forty minutes, which was about thirty minutes longer than normal. Tony only took long showers if he was upset, excruciatingly sore, or with Steve... 

Steve set the dry glass down next to the coffee maker. _He's okay_ , he repeated to himself. _He just needs some space..._ He picked up another glass and sighed. _I hate not being able to fix things._

He put the second glass down and draped the towel over his shoulder. He gave the room a once over. Finding nothing else he could throw away or hide in a drawer, he tried to fluff the pillows. Steve, however, was no Jarvis, and the pillows remained stubbornly flat. After a few more tries, he gave up and forced himself to be content with sitting on the edge of the bed.

Idly, he played with the ring, watching the light bounce off the engravings that decorated the metal band. He began to pull it off but stopped. Frowning slightly, he twisted it a few more times before pushing it back onto his finger. **That** finger, as Tony has put it. 

Steve rubbed the back of his neck and tried to think of any other reason, aside from the obvious, that he would be wearing Tony's ring on his left ring finger. 

"Distracted?" 

Steve looked up to see Tony pulling a shirt over his head. His wet hair dripped onto the white fabric, turning it transparent in some places. Steve moved over and patted the spot next to him. Tony sat down on the other end of the bed.

"So—"

"Yes?"

"My ring... How do you think-"

Tony was cut off by a frantic rapping at the door. Steve stood and pulled the hand towel off his shoulder. As he moved toward the door, he cast a glance back at the bed. Tony's gaze had settled back to the floor, his thoughts somber and introspective. He looked so disheartened, so un-Tony-like... 

Steve opened the door, and Peter stumbled into the room saying something about how glad he was Tony and Steve were ok and how he and MJ hadn't gotten all the way back to their room last night, but that they were ok, as far as they knew. Steve shook his head slightly, overwhelmed by Peter's effusive greeting.

MJ stood behind Peter, looking sheepishly up at Steve. She had her arms crossed over her chest. Steve thought of the bra and turned red.

"Come in," he mumbled. "MJ you— your..." Steve looked helplessly over at Peter, his embarrassed blush intensifying as he tried not to think about what MJ had left behind. "The drawer," he muttered, pointing across the room.

"Oh for—" Steve heard Tony grumble behind him. The screech of a fake wood drawer being yanked open sliced through the uncomfortable silence. Moments later, Tony stood behind Steve. "Here," he said, unabashedly handing MJ her bra.

Steve looked at Peter, and both men turned the color of the carpet. MJ rolled her eyes before taking the proffered undergarment and heading into the bathroom. "Thank you, Tony," she called sweetly.

Looking around desperately for a distraction, Peter spotted his camera on the nightstand. He bounded across the room and scooped the item up, inspecting it for damage. "Thank God! I couldn't remember what I'd done with this!" he said.

"What **do** you remember, Peter?" Tony asked, sinking back onto the bed miserably.

"What do **you** remember?" Peter tossed back, eyeing Tony warily.

Tony had opened his mouth to counter when Steve interrupted him. "Nothing helpful," he supplied, stopping the sarcasm war before it started. "I guess it's the same with the two of you?"

Peter frowned and eventually nodded. 

"We went to the hotel bar, and that's the last thing either of us is sure about," MJ answered as she came back out of the bathroom. "Peter thinks he remembers Tony calling him." 

Tony and Peter both exchanged suspicious glances before looking in opposite directions. 

Steve sighed. "So no one remembers anything. Great." He stared at the floor. _Think. There's got to be something, some clue..._ He looked up at Peter. "What about your camera?"

Peter looked down at the device in his hands. "You think I took pictures of what went on last night?"

MJ smirked. "When do you **not** find an excuse to take pictures?"

Peter shrugged and turned on the camera. "Okay, but if there are naked pictures on here, I am soooooooooo burning the memory card. And possibly the camera. And any clothes I was not wearing at the time..." 

"Peter!" both MJ and Steve warned in unison. 

"Okay, okay!" Peter switched the camera into view mode. Steve and MJ moved to either side of him, staring expectantly at the display screen. Tony stubbornly stayed where he was, studying the alarm clock as if it were the most advanced piece of machinery he'd ever seen.

For a few seconds, the only sound came from the camera as Peter scrolled through older shots taken at Stark Tower.

Then, MJ inhaled sharply. "Oh," she exclaimed, "that's awful!"

"What?!" Tony asked. "What happened?!"

Steve glared at the redhead, not finding her remotely funny. "Nothing happened. The photos are literally awful," he explained, pointedly ignoring the innocent smile MJ flashed him. 

"I don't do drunken photography," Peter said defensively. "These are pretty fuzzy. I think this one is really blurry feet. Or a minor explosion. I'm not sure."

"Well, that's helpful," Tony answered absently as his fingers ghosted over the alarm clock's various buttons. 

Peter began a running narrative on the dreadfulness of various photos, none of which were helpful in putting any aspect of the previous night into focus. After about a minute, Steve lost interest and looked up at Tony. 

Tony continued to stare at that alarm clock with a slightly eerie, unfocused expression. This time, he wasn't sure he wanted to know what the other man was thinking. Steve glanced back at the camera and felt his checks grow hot for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

"What?" Tony was looking at him now, anxiety etched into his features.

Peter had turned the camera away from Steve.

"MJ's naked?" Tony guessed. 

Steve felt his cheek turning even redder. "Well, not so much, but the implication—"

"It shows my bare legs," MJ sighed with another roll of her eyes. "It's a sight that has been featured in magazines across the nation, but being on my husband's camera turns it into pornography."

"But that's Tony's hand on **your** thigh!" Peter squeaked in protest.

"You touched my leg last night, Tony," MJ deadpanned, crossing her arms. 

"Horrors." Steve noticed Tony's eyes shift to where the champagne bottles had been thrown away. "Shame I don't remember it," he said, trying to make a joke.

Peter just continued to stare at the screen.

Steve cleared his throat. "Let's keep looking," he said in a tone of voice he generally reserved for combat orders.

Peter dutifully skipped onto the next frame.

The next few images were too badly shot to be decipherable. Or, if they were focused, they showed either MJ and Peter or Tony and Steve in various positions. Granted each couple often posed in ways that, as far as Steve was concerned, should never happen in the presence of an audience, but at least everything was covered. 

The next image, however, caused Steve to inhale sharply.

"What?" Tony asked again. Steve checked himself mentally. If he continued to react this overtly to each new surprise, as jumpy as Tony was, he might just come apart at the seams. 

Peter was pointedly not looking at the camera. MJ was looking at Tony with her eyebrows arched. 

"You and Steve, shirtless and making out," she explained. "Not really enlightening as to everything we did last night, but still nice to look at."

Tony groaned and flopped back onto the bed, sliding a pillow onto his face. Steve suddenly felt oddly protective of Tony's modesty, even though Tony didn't have very much to begin with.

Peter pressed the forward button and shook his head. "That's all she wrote, folks. No more memory joggers... Thank God."

Steve walked over to the bed and sat down, his hand coming to rest on Tony's denim-clad knee. "You okay?" he asked softly.

"Mmph mmm mmmmw," came the muffled reply. Turning back to Peter and MJ, Steve decided to fill them in on his hypothesis. 

"When Tony and I were leaving the casino yesterday evening, we decided to go walk around and see the sights. That’s the last thing we both clearly remember. From what I can tell," Steve pointed to the ticket stubs still on the low dresser, "Tony must have called you after your show was finished. We must have met up." Steve stood now, resisting the urge to pace.

"Obviously, we had all been affected by the chemical in the city's water supply by that time. I think we called you because... well..."

Peter and MJ stared at him blankly.

Steve looked down at the floor and held his hand up for them to see.

"You needed advice on picking out jewelry?" Peter asked, squinting at the ring in confusion.

MJ smacked Peter on the back of the head and moved close enough to grab Steve's hand. "Really?" she said softly, studying the ring.

"Really."

MJ looked up at Steve. "Really really?"

Tony moved the pillow up just enough to uncover his mouth. "It can't be really really. It's not legal in Las Vegas."

"But still," MJ said, a grin spreading slowly across her face. "Anthony Stark, I didn't think you had it in you."

Peter threw his hands up in the air. "I am so confused!" he whined. 

MJ turned around to face Peter, practically beaming. She still hadn't let go of Steve's hand. "Tony and Steve got fake married last night!"

"Fake what?!" Peter squawked.

Steve shot him a look, feeling unaccountably annoyed with the man for sounding so astonished. "Married. It looks like Tony and I exchanged... something. A ring, at the very least."

"Congratulations!" MJ said as she pulled Steve down into a hug. 

"Oh..." Peter said, still not sure what to make of the news. 

Steve stood there with MJ's arms around his neck. He held his hand in front of him and looked at the MIT ring again. Desperately, he tried to conjure up some moment leading up to what he and Tony had done, some crucial decision or even just an expression, but there was nothing. Only the ring, a few empty bottles, and a dozen dying flowers to testify to the event. Not even Peter's camera had captured any proof. 

"It isn't real," Steve muttered. 

MJ let go and pulled back, giving him a puzzled look before going to stand by Peter. 

He expected to hear Tony's immediate agreement that ceremonies under the influence of a drug the Red Skull would give his left kidney to get a hold of didn't count. Instead, Tony remained quiet. Steve's chest tightened slightly.

"Tony?" he prompted. 

Tony grumbled something from where he had retreated under the pillows again.

"What?" Peter said, stepping closer to the bed. "We don't understand cranky pillow speak."

Tony yanked the pillow off his head and glared at Peter. "I said 'sure, whatever Steve says,'" he snapped. 

Steve looked over at his lover, startled by the sudden display of temper. Peter had already retreated behind his wife. 

"Tony?"

Tony's eyes were downcast again and there was an inordinate amount of hurt reflected there. "It isn't real," he repeated softly. Steve suddenly wondered who Tony was trying to convince.

"Tony," Steve started. A whole host of emotions played across Tony's face, as if he was trying to decide on the appropriate one for the situation.

He finally shook his head and stood abruptly, moving across to the dresser. "It's just Vegas," he said airily, unzipping his bag. "What happens here and all that bullshit." He began shoving clothes at random into the duffle.

"Tony," Steve tried again, moving into the space behind Tony's familiar form. He placed a warm hand on Tony's bicep. The touch stilled his movements and he slowly turned to face Steve. 

Tony tried to keep his expression neutral, but it was clear that darker emotions were at war beneath his façade. "We must've meant... I mean, it was obviously a joke, Steve. It's something that stupid pop stars do to get media attention."

He shrugged a shoulder. "Just chalk it up to another of Tony Stark's drunken—" His voice cracked and he swallowed heavily. "Stupid decisions," he whispered around the lump in his throat. Tony's eyes slid shut, his poorly-constructed pretense crumbling beneath the weight of the situation. 

"Sorry." Steve barely heard the words slip past Tony's lips.

Steve tightened his grip on Tony's arm and pulled the smaller man against him. "I think there's some saying about it taking two," he responded, trying to keep his voice a lighter counterpoint to the depression he saw threatening to overtake Tony. "Whatever happened was my decision, too." 

Tony shook his head. "It's not a decision if you're under the influence." He pushed Steve away gently. He turned back to his bag and started packing again, slower this time. "We technically have another night here, but I'm guessing that you want to go home."

Steve looked out the window at the busy, decadent American city and considered it. His initial discomfort aside, he had been looking forward to a few days alone with Tony, and he found himself reluctant to return to the craziness that seemed a permanent part of Stark Tower. 

Steve glanced back at Tony. "I'd rather spend the time here. With you." 

He shrugged when Tony fixed him with a glare that warned against patronization. 

"I'm serious."

Tony stopped packing but didn't move away from the dresser. Finally, it was Peter's voice that broke through the silence. 

"Seriously, you guys have been fake married for, like, a couple of hours. It is **WAY** too soon to be having one of **those** fights."

"Peter!" MJ hissed, jabbing him with an elbow.

"I mean it," Peter said, clutching his ribs protectively. "Because if you both go back home now, it's gonna suck royally for everyone involved, us included." He pointed to Steve. "You'll just stalk around being all moody." He gestured in Tony's direction. "And you'll just hide out in your lab. You guys won't talk and nothing will get solved and when Magneto decides to turn the Empire State Building into a giant rocket ship...”

The man trailed off as he realized all eyes had settled on him.

"You know I'm right," Peter finished while looking at his shoes. 

Steve ignored the younger Avenger and turned to catch Tony's gaze. "We stay?" Steve could practically see the various scenarios being analyzed and evaluated behind Tony's dark blue eyes. 

Crossing his arms in front of him, Tony sighed. "Apparently we have to stay, for the good of Avenger morale." His voice wasn't much lighter than it had been seconds before, but Steve was pretty sure the comment indicated Tony was trying to find his good humor again. 

"Exactly! Besides, if you managed to fake change your name to Rogers or something, you probably want to know that before you come back."

Tony's face suddenly took on an expression Steve associated with sea sickness, and MJ whispered something that sounded suspiciously like 'pushing it' as she jabbed her husband in the ribs for the second time.

Peter gave his wife a pained expression, but she'd already gone over to hug Steve and Tony. 

"I think we better go back and see if we can find some food."

"And safe bottled water or else we'll end up in Canada somehow," Peter quipped. MJ immediately strode back over and grabbed her babbling husband's arm, tugging him toward the door. 

Half way there, Peter stopped and looked back at Tony, his expression oddly hopeful. "Hey, was I your fake best man?"

MJ jerked him out the door. 

After the door clicked closed, Steve turned and put his arms around Tony. He rubbed the middle of Tony's back in a way that always relaxed him. 

Tony responded by leaning his head against Steve's shoulder, allowing Steve's hands to work some of the tension out of his muscles. After a few moments, he spoke, his voice small and muffled against the fabric of Steve's shirt. "Is it stupid if... if I kind of wanted it to be real?"

Steve's hand froze. _If he had wanted it to be..._ Slowly, he grasped everything that sentence implied. 

"I figured," Tony sighed, starting to move away.

"Tony, wait, what?" Steve sputtered, slightly confused. Then he realized Tony had taken the prolonged silence to be an awkward agreement with the comment he'd just made. 

Knowing he probably couldn't find the right words to reassure Tony, Steve opted for actions. Gripping both of Tony's shoulders, he pulled Tony nearly up off his feet and kissed him. 

Caught completely off guard, Tony stiffened in the fierce embrace. His fingers gripped the front of Steve's shirt for some kind of leverage. Steve turned them around until the back of Tony's knees hit the mattress. 

As Steve continued to apply gentle pressure from above, Tony sat down and then lay down. Steve placed both hands on either side of Tony's head, one knee coming up to rest on the mattress at Tony's hip. Steve kept the kiss slow and deep; he held it for as long as he could before pulling away for air. He heard Tony inhale sharply below him as they parted.

Tony's eyes were searching his desperately now, trying to find an answer to a question that hadn't been verbalized.

Steve broke the silence. "If it had been real, I'd have said yes."

Half a minute passed, and he realized that Tony was holding his breath. "Hey," Steve said gently, brushing a few damp strands of Tony's hair from his face. "Breathe." 

Tony took a couple of shaky breaths. "Really?" he asked on an exhale, the word hushed.

Steve smile softly. "Really."

Tony swallowed, the dazed expression coming back to his face. "As in... forever?"

In a singular moment of clarity, Steve realized that Tony's reactions hadn't been because he was upset that they had done what they had done. It was because he didn't believe that Steve would want him in that way.

Steve leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on Tony's forehead, thinking of every moment that had seen the two of them come together and move apart, only to end up right back in each other's arms. "As in you could lose your company and every last penny you own. As in you could never get into the Iron Man suit again. As in you could lose every last hair on your head. I would still be here." Steve kissed him again. "Wealth, power, and ridiculously good looks... Those things are temporary, Tony. But this, what you and I have, what **WE** have... This is permanent. Ring or no ring."

Tony blinked furiously, the corners of his eyes suspiciously wet. "Steve..." 

Steve smiled affectionately and brushed his thumbs across Tony's eyes, wiping away the tears before they had a chance to fall. "Tony."

"I love you so much," Tony whispered.

Steve's smile stretched from ear to ear now. "And I love you, Mr. Rogers."

Tony cleared his throat. "Wait... What?" Steve just grinned down at him. Tony's eyes narrowed slightly, a welcome smile beginning to play at the corners of his mouth. "What makes you think it's going to work that way?"

"What makes you think it wouldn't?"

"Well, for starters, you're wearing **MY** ring."

~Fin~


End file.
